


Drunken Tales - A Story of Love and Loss

by Fanlass



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst and Humor, F/M, Love Triangles, Mental Anguish, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-29 15:51:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanlass/pseuds/Fanlass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story takes place when Macleod, Joe, Richie, Methos and Amanda are gathered at the annual Memorial Toast for Rebecca, on April 23, the anniversary of when she died.  The truth behind the story The Doppelgänger.  a story about the real Lydia.</p><p>MacLeod shows up with a guest, Ceirdwyn.  She and Methos tell a story of long ago while they are drinking heavily.  The tale takes place by why of flashbacks mostly in the year 805 AD, in the part of the world that eventually became known as France.  It’s a story of adventure and how true love can triumph even among meddling Immortals and bumbling mistakes. This story flips back and forth between the present and the past with both Ceirdwyn and Methos both telling the story.  See Darius, Marcus Constantine, Ceirdwyn, Rebecca and Methos deal with political intrigue back in the Dark Age France.  </p><p>It’s just an old love story where everything that possibly can go wrong in the past and in the present, doses.  And asks the question can love still triumph despite all adversity?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. APRIL is The Cruelest Month

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for enjoyment purpose only. It was not written for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended including all poetry. Every chapter begins with a stanza from a poem, if that not you're thing just skip over it. The poetry has the author listed and all are old poems and have no copyright infringement on them. Characters thoughts are in (italics).

Chapter 1 - APRIL is The Cruelest Month.

T.S. Eliot - The Waste Land. 1922 

“April is the cruelest month,  
Breeding lilacs out of the dead land,  
Mixing Memory and desire,  
Stirring Dull roots with spring rain.”

****************************************

“April is the cruelest month” was an old saying. Methos didn’t remember its origins, but T.S. Eliot loved those words and stole them from Dr. Benjamin Adams. 

April had never been Methos’ favorite month because it was never fully winter nor fully spring. As far back as he could remember April was unpredictable, sometimes bringing weeks of rain, sometimes a blizzard.

The 25th was the worst day of the worst month. Methos never could get through the day without a bottle of wine or gin. Or Irish whiskey, or a good Highland Scotch. Or vodka. And beer, of course. Lots of beer. Most years, he drank all of the aforementioned.

Byron, Methos' last student, was beheaded by MacLeod on April 20. 

Rebecca Horn an Immortal woman Methos first knew as Rivka of Jersh and he had been lovers with on and off for eons she laid down her life to save her mortal spouse on April 23rd. Both deaths were close enough, he rounded up and commemorated them on the 25th.

Avram Mordecai beheaded his teacher Marcus Constantine on April 12 and MacLeod took Avram’s head two weeks later. To Avram, Methos had been Joseph Benjamin, just another Immortal Jew working to create a Jewish homeland. To Methos, Avram was a freedom fighter that had finally taken his teacher's head. 

Marcus Constantine, however, had been Methos’ friend for over 2,000 years. Marcus had told MacLeod that he had helped Methos, then Remus, after being crucified for rape. But that was a lie. They met over drinks in Emrys’ hut in 290BC. From that time the two men spent many nights drinking, playing cards, bickering with each other, and sharing stories. Too many friends had been claimed by the game and Marcus Constantine was one Methos would especially miss.

It had been, as close as Methos could reconcile with the modern calendar, the month of April when the Four Horsemen destroyed Cassandra's village and he took her captive. That started a cascade of regrets that still haunted him to this very day. 

April 25th was the day Nefertiri was beheaded by MacLeod. Duncan would never know they had met in Egypt 1237 BC. A few decades before he met Kronos, Methos was wandering the countryside and decided to live in Egypt for lifetime or two. He came across the new Immortal just after she had awoken, surprised to be alive after being sacrificed to her gods.

Methos chuckled any time he thought of her, never sure if he was the teacher or the student. He had managed to teach her to fight well enough to survive, while she taught him every imaginable way to pleasure a woman and some un-imaginable ways, too. He still believed it had been a fair trade.

Tak-Ne, better known among young immortals as Ramirez, was killed on April 25, 1542, by the Kurgan. He and Tak-Ne had been close friends and drinking partners forever. Reconnecting outside Paris in a drinking establishment during the summer of 1541, Tak-Ne tried to talk his old friend into coming with him to the Highlands of Scotland. He had heard of a young Scottish Immortal the Kurgan was after, so Tak-Ne was going to offer to be the Scot’s teacher. He tried to persuade Methos to come and join the fun but Methos declined the invitation, saying he had a new wife and as much as he loved the Egyptian peacock, he loved his wife more. That was the last time they drank together.

History lost the exact date Darius killed Emrys and changed from a man of war to a man of peace, but Methos hadn’t forgotten. April 25th, 410 AD was burned into his memory until the end of time. He was no less than fifty miles away at the moment Darius’ sword removed Emrys’ head, and the power released in that mystical White Quickening had driven Methos to his knees. It took the old Immortal four days of hard riding to finally get to Lutetia (Paris). Methos was on a mission to discover who had taken the older Holy Man’s head, intending to challenge whoever he found. When he entered the church, Methos saw his friend Darius praying and swore he could hear Emrys’ laughter ringing in his ears. 

Sixteen hundred years later, Methos still held tightly to two of Emrys’ teachings. First and foremost, “keeping one’s head for thousands of years is about the sharpness of one’s mind, not one’s sword.” Close behind that was, “with age, you must become elusive.” He and Emrys had rarely seen eye-to-eye, but Methos still respected his ancient teacher.

And finally, April 25th was the day his wife and the most recent love of his life, Alexa Bond, died. 

It was April 23, 2012, and Methos was starting his annual three-day drinking binge. None of his friends seemed to notice he had been spending April 25th in a drunken stupor long before he heard the name, Alexa Bond. That is, no one but Joe Dawson.

Joe noticed everything the old Immortal did, and sometimes Methos was sure it had been a dangerous mistake to become close friends with Dawson. But Methos found Joe amusing and continued to keep company with the old Watcher, even though he knew it wasn’t a good way to stay out of the records. Sure, Joe wasn’t turning in his version of "The Methos Chronicles" but Methos wasn’t 100% sure he could bury them when Joe went to meet his maker. 

In 1984 Methos took on the identity of Adam Pierson, grad student, and Watcher and then started breaking many of his own self-imposed rules, like not having close mortal friendships or putting down roots. Methos lied to himself when he said he did this out of boredom; it was something deeper. Methos was looking for a new hiding place and with the advent of the computer age, he also knew it was only a matter of time before the Watchers made their own database. Methos wanted to make sure he would have a backdoor into that database. So Methos made certain he was on the team that created it. He had been a Watcher before and it seemed old hat to him, but the biggest surprise of all was that he came to care about the mortals he befriended there.

Don Salzer and Joe Dawson were two men Methos respected and enjoyed spending time with. From the moment he met Don and Joe, Methos realized they were not men to be toyed with. Joe was smart, savvy, talented, had a wicked sense of humor, and he balanced out the workaholic, academic Don Salzer. It had been centuries since Methos had allowed himself to become close friends with Mortal men. Oh sure, he had been married to mortal women, but he stayed away from making close male friends - both mortal and Immortal - since his last student, Bryon. Methos had lost many friends he would have called brother and the losses weighed heavily on his soul. Nevertheless, Joe and Don were different. Don was a scholar like himself, but Methos could never put his finger on just what attracted him to the Blues man and why he was so special. He just knew Joe was different from almost everyone he had ever been acquainted with, and he hoped he would not regret calling Joe Dawson his friend.

oooo0000oooo  
Flashback  
oooo000oooo

It was in 1988 on the 25th of April that Joe found himself back in Paris, watching MacLeod as usual. Duncan MacLeod and Tessa Noel were back in the City of Lights on a buying trip for their shop. Tessa had gone to London to see friends, leaving the Highlander alone in Paris. On this particular day, his assignment went to visit the Immortal Darius and would stay on holy ground until his lady returned. 

Knowing there was nothing to watch, Joe decided to stop in the Shakespeare and Company bookstore. Truth was, Joe had spent the week wishing for an excuse to visit his friend Don Salzer and to have a debate with Don’s protégé, the up-and-coming Methos researcher, Adam Pierson. Joe entered the bookstore and chatted with Don, but was surprised to learn Adam had called in sick for the day. As dedication to his work seemed to be Adam’s middle name, it was a rare occurrence to not find him at his post. Adam never called in. 

A bit alarmed at the news, Joe decided to drop in on the ailing graduate student after leaving Don. Not to come empty-handed, Joe picked up a small pizza on the way to Adam’s flat. After ringing the bell a dozen times Joe was about to call it quits when Adam finally answered the door holding a glass of Scotch in one hand and a very old book in the other. 

“Well, are you going to let me freeze to death on your doorstep or let me come in? God dammit, April in Paris still feels like winter in Seacouver.” Joe said growled at the young man who had a perplexed look on his face.

“Joe I wasn’t expecting anyone,” Adam managed to give Joe a wan half smile. Then looking down at the box in Joe’s hands Adam asked, “Did you bring me something?” 

“It was a pizza, it’s now an icicle. Hell, what's wrong with you man? Don said you called in sick? All I can see is that you’re drunk off your ass.” The older watcher said with in sarcasm his voice.

Pushing past the younger man, Joe gave Adam a nasty look and entered the apartment with a huff. Don had said Adam like to take his work home, but the sight before Joe was unbelievable. The kitchen table was almost impossible to find, buried under old Watcher chronicles, the same as every other flat surface. There were bookshelves full of old books, presumably more old chronicles, many in scripts and writings Joe could not begin to recognize. Adam followed the man with the cane into his flat with a blank look of surprise on his face. The last thing Adam expected was someone hunting him down because he had called in sick.

Joe looked at the young researcher, “Adam, you need to get a TV or something. I think you have to stop taking your work so seriously.” 

“You're quite right Joe, that’s why I am having a mental health day,” Adam replied. “Just give me a couple of minutes. I think we can resurrect this pizza if we put it in the oven. Let me tidy up here a bit,” Adam said as he started to re-stack and shelve the chronicles, straightening up a bit.

“This looks more like you're having a mental break down day to me. Adam, I know you like your beer, but HQ won’t think you’re the Boy Wonder very longer if you work yourself into a binge. Let me light that oven it might explode with your breath.” Joe pushed him aside and turned on the small oven while Adam found him a pan for the pizza.

“Joe I didn’t know you cared,” Adam smiled at his friend. 

“I don’t! Now, are you going to continue to be a selfish son of a bitch, or are you going to pour me a glass of that Scotch you're keeping all for yourself?" Joe smiled as he watched Adam rifle through the kitchen cabinets until he found a glass, then poured some of the 18-year-old Scotch. 

Now that some of the chronicles were put away, Joe was surprised how richly decorated the flat was. Joe decided Adam collected both sculptures and paintings. Joe wondered how a graduate student could afford such a collection, the artwork must have been cheap reproductions of old masters.

Adam was still fussing with the oven when he stooped over and looked at Joe. “ I think we rescued the pizza, let me put on some jazz and finish clearing off the table. Dave Brubeck OK with you, Joe?” 

“Yeah, sure Dave Brubeck is fine,” Joe smiled. Adam was a quirky young man but seemed to be an old soul, with wisdom far beyond his twenty some years. When they met, Joe was instantly fond of the eccentric grad student and hours flew by whenever they were in a heated discussion.

As the smell of a mostly ruined, re-warmed Pizza filled the flat, Adam's stomach growled. “I don’t think I’ve eaten all day.” He admitted as he cleaned notes and a few chronicles off his small glass dining table.

“So instead you had a liquid breakfast and lunch? Great choice! At least you have good taste kid, 18-year-old Scotch works for me. Look, I understand, I’ve taken a few ‘Mental Heath days’ myself, but what's bothering you? You’re the Council's Goddamn boy wonder, I don’t know a soul at HQ that can find one bad thing to say about you, and I doubt I’ve ever seen Don so happy to have a research assistant in years. You’re the first one he's kept around more than five minutes in all the time I've known him.” Joe sat down and Adam poured him another glass of the liquor. Joe tossed it down like it was a shot and tapped the side of his glass for more. The thin younger man quickly refilled it.

“Yeah Joe, the bookstore is quite charming and Don and I work like a well-oiled machine on most days, I’m enjoying my classes at the Sorbonne, and I love my work with the Watchers.” Methos picked up chronicles from the couch, putting them back on the shelves then sprawled in the space he had created.

“So, what's up with the mental health day, Kid? I mean, some of us carry a lot of baggage like say - Vietnam,” Joe said as he tapped his artificial legs. “What are you, still in your early twenties? You're not old enough to have the kind of scars an old bird like me does. Or is there something special about this day?” Joe took another swig of the Scotch before getting up to take likely ruined pizza out of the oven. 

Joe sat down and Adam poured them more Scotch before sprawling back on his sofa. He took a bite of the inedible pizza before answering. “I doubt you know I am an orphan, and today is the day I lost my family.” Which was as about as true of a statement as to explain his April 25th drinking habits Joe would ever hear out of Adam Pierson. Or Methos for that matter. 

“Want to talk about it Adam? Sometimes it's easier to share something with someone older and wiser. Hey, I’ve got the gray hair to prove it. I've been through a lot in my life.” Joe smiled at his younger friend.

Adam laughed into his glass of whiskey and said, “No thanks Joe, I'd rather just drink, but you're welcome to stay and talk. I just don’t want to talk about anything very personal if that's OK with you?” Joe looked at his friend. Adam had the strangest hazel eyes that seemed to sparkle with a gold tint when the afternoon light came in the windows. 

“Hey, I understand bro, you tell me when you’re ready. Now, what were we arguing about last time I was in Paris? Oh yeah, how history repeats itself.” Joe smirked while rolling his eyes.

“Yes, and how mankind is doomed to repeat their mistakes because no one seems to learn anything from them,” Adam shot back at the jazzman. 

“Adam, lighten up! You are way too young to be so cynical and pessimistic,” Joe said. “Have another drink and maybe we can discuss something safer, like politics or religion!” Joe scowled, the pizza had been completely ruined, so he got up and tossed it in the garbage.

“Hey, I could have eaten that!” Adam protested as he gave Joe a fresh drink then put his feet up on the table and smiled slyly. “Sure Joe, we can discuss politics. But let’s think of politics in the reference to how history repeats itself.” 

“Hell Adam, has anyone ever told you, you’re an impossible pain in the ass?!” Joe shot back at him. “And who feeds you if you think this pizza is edible?”

“I'm not a good cook. I mostly eat take out and Don and Christine take pity on me and give me dinner a couple of times a week.” 

Adam was quiet for a moment before it was like a dam burst and he found himself talking and he couldn’t stop. 

“Joe, there was a man I knew, he was like a father figure to me - not that he would admit to anyone that he gave a damn for me. I think his favorite thing to do was to tell everyone just how impossible I was to get along with. He said I was a real pain in the ass. Frankly, sometimes you remind me of him. He never said it, but I knew he cared because when I saw him he invited me in, cooked for me, talked to me, and asked trying to guide me onto the right path, teach me a few things. That he actually cared whether I lived or died...” 

Adam stopped speaking. He had never intended to open up to Joe. Hadn’t he just said he didn’t want to talk about anything personal? When Methos realized a tear had just rolled down his cheek, he immediately clamped down on his emotions. It was impossible to share the pain he was feeling, so he knew he had to shut it down, compartmentalize it. 

“Sorry Joe, I promise I’ll try to lighten up.” 

Joe looked at his young friend with sympathetic blue eyes and sighed, “Hey buddy, stop being so hard on yourself, you’re only human. Who the hell do you think you are? One of the Immortals we watch? Mercifully, thank God, no. One trip around this life is about all I can handle. Adam, how do you think they do it lifetime after lifetime after lifetime? Like that guy you are researching, what his name?” 

“Methos,” Adam answered in a whisper - afraid to say his own name. 

“Yeah him, that poor devil, living 50 centuries. I just don’t have a clue how a guy like that stays sane. Fighting in the game, it’s kill or be killed, keeping his head when everyone around him would just love to take it. If I were Methos I would stay lost too instead of constantly defending myself from the others. Except for MacLeod, there is something different about him,” Joe exclaimed with a certain pride. 

“All Watchers say that about their Immortal,” Adam shot back.

“There you go, being cynical again. But hey, don’t trust me, read MacLeod’s chronicle. He’s the real deal. He could win the game, probably won’t, but he should.”

Joe put his drink down and waved his hands in the air. “OK, we’re off topic again.” Joe smiled at Adam. “You said politics in reference to how history repeats itself. Dammit, you intellectual types are such a horses asses. Adam, we need more food if we’re going to drink this hard and this pizza is not cutting it. Get on the phone and call for Chinese take out, maybe some General Chow's chicken with broccoli, pork fried rice, egg foo young with that gravy, teriyaki chicken, everyone loves meat on a stick, and a couple of spring rolls?” 

Adam reached for his phone. 

Everything was going to be all right. This year Methos was going to make it through April 25th. This year, Methos had the company of a friend who simply accepted him, enjoyed his companionship, and cared whether he lived or died.

oooo00000oooo  
End flash back  
oooo00000oooo

Joe never forgot that April 25th back in 1988 because it had been one of the most remarkable evenings the two friends had spent together. Joe and Adam had stayed up all night laughing and arguing. After Joe learned that Adam was really Methos, he often thought about that night, wondering about the mystery man Methos had considered a father figure. It had to be someone Methos cared deeply about, as evidenced by the tear he had shed when thinking about him. After knowing Adam as Methos for several years, Joe learned Methos shed few tears over anyone. 

Joe had searched the Watcher database, but found no clues. Joe did consider using the direct approach; walking up to Methos and asking. But Joe knew that Methos would either lie or brush him off with one of his quirky stories, why would the old Immortal tell the truth anyway?

Now, Methos had everyone believing he was always drunk on April 25th because of Rebecca and Alexa’s deaths. 

Joe doubted he would ever learn the truth about who died on April 25th and why it affected the old man so much. 

In the past few years there were few things the old Immortal did or said that Joe didn't notice. The Watcher never said anything about his observations, only recorded them in a private journal. In 2008 Joe was retired from watching MacLeod, but still taught at the Watcher Academy and ran Le Blues Bar. To Joe, personally and privately, his main assignment had been keeping his own private journals on Methos. Even if no one read it until years after his death, the journal would be there as a record in the true Watcher tradition. 

Observe, record, and do not interfere, because Joe knew there was little he could do anyway to interfere with Methos. Methos was an Immortal who truly acted on his own accord, with no one really understanding his reasons. Nothing the ancient Immortal did was insignificant, and nothing was as simple as it looked. Joe had long suspected Methos was much older than 5000 years, but he could never get the Immortal to admit it. Methos was not the type of man who had straightforward answers. Joe was sure there was a lot more to Methos' three-day drinking binge, and it had little to do with the deaths of Rebecca and Alexa.

End of chapter one

Next Chapter 2 - The Gathering

MacLeod Amanda Richie Joe Methos and Ceirdwyn meet at Amanda’s club Sanctuary for an annual toast to Rebecca on the anniversary of her death. Ceirdwyn surprise’s Methos when she shows up and goats him in to telling the group a story.


	2. The Gathering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duncan Macleod brings a guest that causes trouble and Methos tells a story about one of his lost loves. 
> 
> Methos was sure Byron was thinking of his day of drinking and mourning when the poet wrote “When We Two Are Parted.” Methos felt the poem held a special insight into how he viewed the death of Immortal friends. Lord Byron seemed to have seen directly into his teacher’s heart and let him understand how Doc grieved in silence for his fallen comrades.

Chapter 2 - The Gathering 

When We Two Are Parted  
By  Lord Byron

In secret we met   
In silence I grieve   
That thy heart could forget,  
Thy spirit deceive.  
If I should meet thee after long years,  
How should I greet thee?  
With silence and tears.

 

It was April 23, 2013 and a small group of friends were gathering to drink the annual toast to Rebecca Horne on the anniversary of her death. Amanda, who had been living in Paris for over ten years, was hosting the event at Sanctuary. Sanctuary was more than just a club or gambling establishment, it was holy ground and Amanda’s home. 

She had closed the bar early, keeping a skeleton staff she planned to send home before the toasting started. Methos was the first to arrive, showing up about 4:30 to share an early dinner with her. Richie showed up just in time to join them for dessert. Joe’s class at the Watcher Academy had gotten out late, so he arrived after 6:00 when the Immortals were sharing a bottle Midleton Very Rare. At 202 Euros a bottle it was one pricey Irish whiskey that Joe couldn’t afford to stock at Le Blues Bar and he wasn’t going to pass up a chance to have some of the rare treat. 

MacLeod was supposed show at seven, but he called and said he was going to be late. By nine pm, Methos was already drinking heavily and MacLoed still hadn’t put in his appearance. The group was about to give up and toast without him when Amanda, Richie, and Methos looked around, feeling the familiar Buzz of an approaching Immortal. 

To their surprise MacLeod was not alone. On his arm was tall, leggy brunet whom everyone but Richie recognized as Ceirdwyn. Joe noticed Methos didn’t look her in the eye as Amanda greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. Mac then introduced Ceirdwyn to Richie who kissed her hand and gave her his trademark smile. 

Ceirdwyn boldly sat down next to the old man himself and spoke to him without awaiting introduction. 

“So old friend, what are you calling yourself these days?” She gave him a seductive smile before continuing. “I have nothing to hide in this group. Duncan and Amanda have known me for centuries.” 

Seeing that Methos was completely ignoring her, Ceirdwyn turned and offered her hand to Joe. “You must be Joe Dawson. Duncan has told me so much about you, I’m Ceirdwyn.” 

“Very nice to meet you. Mac has mentioned your name a few times.” Joe chuckled as he gave Ceirdwyn one of his broadest smiles before kissing her hand as Richie had. 

Methos rolled his eyes and started to leave. Ceirdwyn quickly grabbed his hand tightly, wrapping his fingers inside hers.

“Oh, I don’t think you’re going anywhere.” She met his eyes with a cold stare. 

“Ceirdwyn, good to see you again.” Methos replied softly, returning her look with hazel eyes turned cool and strangely dark. 

“Obviously you two know each other?” Joe was dying of curiosity, but he knew better than to ask direct questions yet.

“Marcus Constantine introduced us when I was visiting him in Rome. We all happened to be at the Coliseum the same day to watch Christians facing the lions.” Ceirdwyn smiled at Joe as Methos frowned. 

Not only did the group know he had told only half the story, now they also knew the other half. Methos hated sharing personal stories unless he was the one putting the spin on them. To top it off, with Ceridwyn providing new details, the group would have further reason to believe his stories were never straight and this irritated the old Immortal, worsening his growing bad mood.

“Our mutual friend here has told that story, but as usual he left the best part.” MacLeod smiled while holding eye contact with Methos. 

Methos quickly gathered himself and tried to change the subject. Glancing at MacLeod he began, “Duncan, always good to see you even when you’ve kept us waiting.” Then Methos turned his attention back to the woman who was holding his hand captive. “Ceirdwyn, this is your first year coming to Rebecca’s annual toast; I never realized you two were close.” 

“Well, since we haven’t seen each other in over two hundred years I don’t expect you to be up to date on my associations.” Ceirdwyn shot back at the old Immortal. 

“You might be surprised.” A mischievous smile appeared on his lips and his eyes softened. “I kept tabs on you for a quite a while. I was happy to see you finally take my advice and marry a mortal man.” 

Ignoring the others in the room, their conversation continued and intensified. 

“His name was Steven Jarmel and he was murdered in 1995. I remember teasing you about your mortal wives and how much their losses cost you. I didn’t understand what you were trying to teach me back then. You were right, I would do it all over again even knowing how little time we would have and the pain I would go through, I’m sorry.” 

Methos took Ceirdwyn in his arms, comforting her as if Steven had died yesterday. 

Releasing her, Methos stepped back to the bar and picked up his drink. “I should have been there for you Ceirdwyn. I wasn’t on the continent most of the time, being a bit busy myself that year. You see there was this girl...” 

Ceirdwyn interrupted Methos with amusement in her voice. “Every time we meet the first thing out of your mouth is “there was this girl.” What is she like this time?” 

“She died in ‘95 also and you would have liked her. Alexa never let me get away with sarcasm and bullshit. She was intelligent, strong spirited, and faced death better any of us ever will.” Unconsciously, his voice softened, conveying the deep love he still felt for her.

“Sounds like Alexa would have reminded me of someone else you married - Lydia. You always went for those women who had honesty mixed with the ability to stand on their own. I was always a little jealous of you finding those Mortal women that didn’t need you, just loved and wanted you.”

“There was never anything to be jealous about, Ceirdwyn. You were always my warrior queen. Twenty years or two hundred years wouldn’t change that.” He considered what it would be like to kiss her again, but they weren’t alone and Methos was not a man to entertain an audience. Besides, whatever they had shared was over hundreds of years ago. 

Methos still hadn’t given Ceirdwyn a name. A moment later she put an end to any speculation regarding whether or not she knew him as Methos.

“Methos, I know I crashed the party. I ran into Duncan tonight and he told me about the toast, so I asked to join the toast to a good friend. I’ll even admit I hoped you would be here.”

“Your good friend? Rebecca?” 

“Well, like the gentleman you are, you apparently never told Rebecca and I about each other. But women aren’t like men and when we get together we gossip. Once, while hiking in the Swiss Alps she and I compared notes about our Immortal lovers and to our amazement, we kept coming up with a man who had the same description. Tall thin, yet muscular with a large nose and a way with women. His name seemed to change from century to century, until we both realized what the scoundrel’s true name was. Should I tell you that name, or do you want to guess?” Ceirdwyn gave Methos a wicked, sexy smile.

“Ceirdwyn, I don’t know why women would spend so much time comparing notes on men that breezed in and out of their lives.” Methos wanted to distract the others from this new revelation into his personal life and was about to change the subject when Ceirdwyn interrupted him with a protest.

 

“Methos, neither Rebecca or I ever considered your presence nothing more than a breeze. We considered you a significant force in our lives, one to be reckoned with.” 

Joe was paying extra close attention. Methos must have had a long love affair with Ceirdwyn, in addition to his well-documented and long-standing affair with Rebecca. Since he and Rebecca were both ancient Immortals it wasn’t surprising, but this revelation with Ceirdwyn was out of the blue. A quick glance over to Mac showed Joe he was just as stunned - especially since he and Ceirdwyn had been lovers off and on for a few centuries themselves.

Amanda knew all too well about Methos’ relationship with her teacher Rebecca. Her mind wandered back to that day only a few months after she had become a student…

ooo000ooo000ooo

850 AD, Rebecca’s Abbey

Amanda innocently walked into the chambers she shared with Rebecca, and found her mistress and another Immortal lost to their lust and carnal desires. Funny that neither of the lovers were upset by the student’s intrusion, but instead they smiled and laughed. Rebecca then asked Amanda to bring them some food and wine, informing her that she and her lover planned on spending the rest of the day in bed and Amanda could do as she wished after delivering the food.

The little thief couldn’t help but linger a moment, watching the male Immortal and his sleek, muscular body continuing to caress her mistress until his voice startled her into remembering herself. 

“Rebecca, who is this Immortal child that is such a voyeur?”

Rebecca laughed and answered him in her gentle manner. “Methos, this is Amanda, my new student. 

“You have a new student? Oh, Rebecca when are you going to stop taking in lost strays?” He gently teased before focusing on Amanda and giving her more of an order than a request. “Girl, you seem to like what you see so I give you a choice. Stay and join us, or leave me and my lady in peace.”

Amanda ran from the room as fast as she could as Methos laughed lustfully at her back. 

ooo000ooo000ooo  
2012 AD, Sanctuary. 

Years later she regretted her flight because it was the one and only time she had been invited to Methos’ bed. Other times, it was always Rebecca or MacLeod that stopped Amanda from trying to explore a romantic relationship with the oldest Immortal alive. 

Methos, who’s mind was firmly planted in 2012, redirected the evening back in the planned direction.

“We all came here to remember Rebecca, I think it’s time to toast her.” the oldest Immortal reminded the group.

Methos stepped to Joe’s side and lifted the bottle of champagne that had been chilling all evening and popped the cork. Amanda set out the glasses so he could fill them. Ceirdwyn stayed just out of Methos’ reach, hovering next to MacLeod.

The toast was raised, “To Rebecca, the First Lady, the Grand Dame, you are sorely missed.” They all repeated the words, took their swallows, and then began sharing their memories of Rebecca.

As memories poured out, tears flowed, shed by everyone in the group - even Joe was caught up in the moment. Everyone save Methos who kept a stoic expression on his face. It was only April 23 and there were two more days of mourning and drinking until he would release his sorrow privately.

Amanda broke out another bottle of Midleton Very Rare and they all moved to sit around a single table and pour the sweet nectar, as Methos called it. Ceirdwyn stayed next to Duncan, much to Amanda’s dismay. Joe, sitting across from her, remembered a name Ceirdwyn had mentioned.

“This Lydia you spoke of, did she live in the ninth century? By any chance did she have a lovely oval face with a button nose and hair that fell in ringlets and was the color of yellow silk?” Joe was sure asking was going to cause trouble but he wanted answers to questions that had nagged him for years.

“Why yes, Joe. How did you know?” Ceirdwyn knew that talking about Lydia was going to get her in trouble with Methos, but she didn’t care. “Lydia was a beauty, but she was incredibly brave too. She was the daughter of a Duke, chaperoned by Daruis on the journey to wed a cruel and horrible man in a political marriage.”

“That is enough of that, Ceirdwyn. Tonight is about Rebecca, we do not need to rehash of the past. Besides, it happened over 1200 years ago.” Methos looked up from his glass of whiskey with more than a touch of irritation in his voice.

“Is Methos always so grumpy?” Ceirdwyn complained. 

“Get used it Ceirdwyn, sometimes he’s worse.” Amanda chimed in, earning a piercing glare from the oldest Immortal.

“Most of the time he is much worse. And sarcastic too,” added MacLeod.

Richie rolled his eyes in agreement, not intending to say anything, but he found himself talking anyway. Actually it was more like rambling “Yeah, like Methos is so old and wise. What do you always say? Oh yea I’m just a guy. Just a guy my ass!”

“No,” Methos held his hands up in the air and tossing Richie an evil glare. He shook his head and mumbled “Kids” under his breath. “No really, I just prefer that my personal life not be dinner table conversation. Besides, Joe writes everything down in that bloody damn journal of his. Don’t deny it, Joe!” Methos said before picking up gulping down the rest of the glass of whiskey as a shot. 

Cierdwyn began in the tradition of bards of her tribe so long ago. “This is the tale of Lydia. It’s a story of love, sex, romance, betrayal, a hero, and even an evil villain. There’s a couple good sword fights and there was a point where Daruis, Methos, and I almost lost our heads, and of course, a Quickening in the end. There’s even a surprise as to who help saves the day. If I wasn’t there, I would say someone had made this up.” 

Everyone in the room - except Methos - desperately wanted her to continue the tale.

“You said it Ceirdwyn - betrayal! Are you sure you want this tale told?” Methos asked in his contemptuous way. 

“Yes. You may have forgotten my old friend, above all it’s about love triumphing over adversity. It’s really about Lydia and the fact she never gave up, she never quit, and she never let go even when things looked as if all hope was lost. No matter what was thrown in her path, Lydia kept her faith even when you lost yours. It’s her story, Methos, not yours. You were just the luckiest man on earth that she still loved you enough to forgive you and still wanted to become your wife.” Ceirdwyn said with a clear, calm voice.

Methos bowed his head in silence for a moment before answering her, “Of course you’re right, Ceirdwyn. She was an angel and I was a fool.” Methos smiled, “Go ahead, tell them the story. Luckily this is holy ground or I think I would forced by sword point to retell the story after the build up you gave it.

“I don’t know all of it Methos, so you will have to help me. But I know how to ensure that you tell truth, no lies. Swear on Lydia’s grave.” 

“My warrior queen you drive a hard bargain, but since I have consumed too much whiskey to fight you, I swear on Lydia’s grave to tell the truth. I will not forget this excursion in to my privacy and someday you will pay a price for this, Cierdwyn.” The old man threatened the Celtic warrior.

“I understand your feelings Methos. You know I’m far from the hero in this tale. But I know how you can take that pound of flesh from me, and get revenge.” Ceirdwyn smiled with a lift of her eyebrows as Methos gave her an ugly glare.

Joe couldn’t believe his ears, Methos had sworn a vow on Lydia’s grave not to lie, and that had to be a first!

The group was mesmerized. Amanda quickly poured Methos a fresh beer and he began to speak about a time long ago and far away. 

End of chapter 2

Chapter 3 - The Duchess and the Rascal

We are transported back to 805 AD were a young women is caught up as a pawn in to the world of Immortals. We meet the Priest Daruis, the Duchess du Lutetia Lydia and a rascal named Methos.


	3. The Duchess and the Rascal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Methos and Ceirdwyn argue, He begins telling the group a tale of long, long ago. About him, Darius, and a beautiful duchess named Lydia

Chapter 3  
The Duchess and the Rascal  
________________________________________  
She Walks in Beauty  
By Lord Byron

She walks in beauty, likes the night  
Of cloudless climes and starry skies  
All that's best and bright  
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:  
Thus mellow'd to that tender light  
Which to gaudy day denies. 

Reading Byron's poem She Walks in Beauty always sent Methos' thoughts to his wives and lovers. Tonight, he couldn't help but think of one woman in particular; Lydia.  
________________________________________

April 23, 2012 - Paris France - Club Sanctuary

Methos got a fresh beer; picked up the Midleton whiskey then waltzed over to where the Group was seated. Placing the liquor on the table before him Methos sprawled out on a comfy chair and began unfolding his tale.

"The early Romans thought Lutetia was nothing more than a swamp full of mud huts and never envisioned how valuable the city would become. In 52 B.C. the Roman Empire under Julius Caesar seized the city and made it part of the Roman territory known as Gaul. In 405 A.D., Darius the Goth met the oldest Immortal alive, Emrys, outside the city gates as he led his army to the sea. The ancient holy man fought Darius to prevent the warlord from invading the city."

Methos finished off the bottle of Midleton Very Rare and cleared his throat. "Darius defeated the ancient holy man and received his quickening, then he disbanded his army, saving the city. As you know Darius became a man a peace, but what you don't know is an echo of the ancient holy man stayed with him for over four centuries. Before he took the white Quickening, barely a foul word fell between Darius and I. But after, it seemed I got on his nerves and he never did figure out why. Of course I..."

Joe interrupted "Hell, I can think of a couple of reasons why you got on his nerves! I can easily think of about twenty ways you get on mine!"  
Amanda hushed the old Watcher while giving Methos a killing look.

Oh, Joe, you do amuse me so, I will miss you so much when you are gone. The old Immortal smiled and continued.

Joe scowled at Methos.

"Darius never left Lutetia and in the ninth century, he was in the service of Duke Lambert as the family priest. Lutetia was part of the Holy Roman Empire under Charlemagne, beginning to grow in importance as a center of trade. The Emperor knew he couldn't control such a large area as the Frankish Kingdom and being an enterprising man, he practically invented the franchise system. He allowed the Dukes of the Franks to do as they wished within their own borders, so long as they followed his rules in general and paid him an appropriate annual fee. Of course, there was a lot of political jockeying between the Dukes, generally with their daughters involved as pawns in marriages to unite alliances."

"Lydia was the only daughter of Duke Lambert du Lutetia. Her powerful father had arranged a marriage between her and the Duke du Cléroy du Aquitania. Lambert controlled much of the traffic on the Seine in the Neustria providence. In lower Aquitania, du Cléroy controlled travel on the Tarnus River. The union had received the blessing of Emperor Charlemagne, would unite the two families, and greatly increase their power base. It would also increase trade along the rivers, allowing more money to flow into Emperor Charlemagne's coffers."

"Methos, why the history lesson? I thought you were going to tell us a story and I all can hear is the Duke of somebody or other from some place that doesn't exist anymore!" Richie complained, "I thought this was a love story!"

"Well forgive me for giving you a little background information." Methos scowled and took a swallow of beer. "So this is what the world has to look forward to from Generation X since they all have ADD!"

"Hey old man if you want we can take this outside," Richie challenged.

"Calm down Rich," MacLeod dropped a hand on the shoulder of his former student.

"Mac I know Methos has been around the block a few times more than me, but why does he always get away with this bullshit?" Richie confronted his mentor.

"First, don't drag MacLeod into this. Second, I only implied your generation has no appreciation of the past, no sense of history, and the attention span of an ant." Methos spat at Richie. "Personally I blame video games."

"Methos, you're not helping." Amanda took the glass of beer out of his hand.

"Hey, I was drinking that!"

"And you can have it back after you apologize to Richard and tell us the story." Amanda smiled at her old friend with false sweetness.  
Methos pointed at Ceirdwyn. "Why are you here tonight? I know it isn't to honor Rebecca's memory, and this story is more about treachery than love."

"Methos, of course, I'm here to honor Rebecca. Quit trying to get out of telling the story," Ceirdwyn replied.

Joe broke in again. "Excuse me, I have been waiting fifteen years to get something other than Methos' damn cliff notes about Lydia and I was promised a story, so can you all just sit down, shut up and let him tell the damn story?" Joe chastised, all the Immortals immediately sat back and yielded the floor.

Methos hid a smile, casually looking at the old watcher and chuckled under his breath. I guess I have tormented you long enough my old friend. We crave each other company but I know you figured that out by now. Or for the first time, I'm wrong and you're just a good watcher doing his job? Methos thought but did not say out loud.

"You're quite right Joe, I did promise to tell the story. If Amanda will keep giving me fresh beers and the peanut gallery can keep quiet," Methos smiled in his peculiar way at Richie and Ceirdwyn. "I'll get on with it."

Richie gave him a glare before smiling refreshing his drink and sat with the rest. Much to Amanda's annoyance Ceirdwyn curled up next to MacLeod, as Methos continued his yarn...

 

805 Lutetia (Paris)

 

Lydia, being only sixteen, knew nothing of the political jockeying around her. Her head was still filled with childhood dreams of fairy tales, true love, Knights, and men of honor. That changed the night before she left home when her Stepmother, crying at the parting, warned her about the realities of her life ahead. Her future husband was twice her age and had no children. Lydia would become a prisoner in his castle with nothing to do but bear sons for the Duke, and if she were unable to do so she would face the same fate as his first two wives - a mysterious death.

In order to travel safely, she was sent to Duke du Cléroy with Father Darius as her chaperone, an arrangement she appreciated since he had been her tutor, confessor, and friend since the death of her mother. He suggested she dress as a nun and her father's soldiers as priests so they would appear to be on a religious pilgrimage. Hoping it would lessen their chances of being attacked by thieves or an enemy of either Duke.

The trip had been very difficult for the young lady who was used to comforts provided by wealth. She was not prepared for traveling in the back of a wagon in the rain for a week until they became stuck axle deep in the muddy road. Everything was wet, everything stank, and everything was likely molded. She hated the disguised soldiers, she hated the rain, she hated the waiting, and but most of all she hated her upcoming marriage.

"Father Darius, the rain is finally stopping. How long will it take for the mud to dry and the roads become passable? How many more days do you think we have to until we reach Duke du Cléroy's lands?" Lydia pestered him with questions born from nervousness. 

"Lydia, you ask far too many questions. I suppose I have only myself to blame for you becoming too deep a thinker."

"Because when I asked you to teach me reading, math, and philosophy, you did?" Lydia smiled at her mentor.

"Yes, and it is not a woman's place in this world to supply the answers. You're far too smart and read too much for your own good, my child."

After her mother died, Darius saw the Duke cared only for his sons, lovers, and new wife. He recognized Lydia had a quick wit and a sharp mind but had no one to care for her other than the nuns. Being gentle women, they had no idea how to raise a precocious girl. Therefore, he spent hours teaching and debating his young charge, spoiling her with the attention he would have given his own daughter.

Once when they were walking in the countryside, a wild boar charged Lydia. Darius drew his sword and wounded the beast, saving her and forcing it to flee, but not before it gored the priest. Lydia was frantic with worry over the good father's injuries - until she saw his skin heal before her very eyes. More curious than frightened she begged to know why and Darius revealed his immortality to her.

Darius' belly growled forcing his mind back to the present reality. Reaching into the pockets of his robe, he pulled out bread to share a meager breakfast with his young charge.

"We should reach Duke du Cléroy's lands in about a week, six days if we're lucky and find the old Roman roads. That is if we don't find more problems with the wagons or run into anyone on the way." Darius held her face between his large hands, "I'm still keeping your fate in my prayers, I have a feeling the Lord will not abandon you to a cruel life."

"Father, I know you are a man with many secrets and I understand you are older that I can conceive. There must be some ancient knowledge you can use to stop this marriage." Tears ran down Lydia's face hoping for a miracle. Thinking of the stories she'd heard of the Duke's cruelty was enough to start her trembling.

"Lydia my child, it is not in my power to provide something only God can do, so we must trust in Him. The Emperor has blessed your union and I can do nothing to stop it. However, I will speak to the Duke personally regarding the way I expect him to treat you. Until then we can always pray for a miracle."

Darius smiled and kissed Lydia on the forehead. He hated to turn her over to a man known far and wide as a monster. However, if he did not carry out his orders, the Emperor would have him beheaded. This union would keep the peace between the two Dukes. Therefore, even though it pained him personally, he would follow his Emperor's orders.

Since it had been raining for the best part of a week, travel on the dirt road had become impossible. At last, the sun broke through the clouds and began to warm things, but the wagons were firmly planted in the mud. They wouldn't be moving before the road dried. 

Therefore, the troop found sanctuary in a meadow, laying things out to dry on the grass. Lydia tried to help until she got shooed away so much, she gave up and stayed out of the way by reading under a tree with her guards standing near.

The priests and nuns were preparing for mid-afternoon prayers when about two dozen armed men broke through the trees, preceded by a hail of arrows falling without warning. Before their own weapons could be drawn, Lydia's guards were targeted and killed. They were only the first to die. Lydia scrambled and hid behind her tree knowing it gave her little protection if arrows were to find her.

Darius had made a vow centuries before to not participate in the game, but he still carried his faithful sword at his side. There were innocents to protect, and he believed God would forgive him for wounding a few bandits. He fought well, avoiding serious injury and awkward explanations, but outnumbered as he was he couldn't stop the murdering of the priests.

The situation was grim. The five with military training had been targeted and killed immediately, leaving the group nearly defenseless. The bandits easily found Lydia and demanded she removed her wimple, revealing her long blond hair and identifying her as the daughter of Duke Lambert. The bandits, seeing Darius led the troop of priests and nuns, told him to drop his sword, or the remainder of his people would be slaughtered.

"We only need the Duke's daughter, we have no wish to kill any more holy men." The leader of the bandits looked at Lydia with a leer. "Don't worry pretty one, we won't harm a hair on your head, you're far too valuable."

Darius, and the surviving men, and the nuns were tied and fastened to the wagons with nothing to do but pray. As Lydia was thrown onto a horse and taken away, Darius felt the intrusion of another Immortal's Buzz. He looked down the road, hoping to recognize the approaching man riding lazily on horseback. This was not the time to meet a headhunter or someone who still held a grudge against the former warlord.

A man approached who was tall and thin with a distinct profile.

Could it possibly be his old friend? Had God sent the miracle he was praying for? Few Immortals that Darius knew had the courage - or stupidity - to take on twenty-four armed criminals. Even fewer Immortals could kill without remorse.

The last of the attacking band fled into the forest as the coming Immortal moved his horse into a canter to hurry his approach. 

"Darius, you seem to have gotten yourself in another dilemma, my friend. I tried to warn you living as a monk would get you nowhere." The new arrival laughed as he slid off his horse and cut Darius free.

The two Immortals released a few of the brothers who could finish taking care of the others before stepping away to speak in private.  
"Methos, your timing is impeccable, but it is my charge who is in a predicament. I need your help."

"Darius, the last time I laid eyes on you was fifty years ago and you needed my help, I almost lost my head! What is the problem this time?" Methos was already shaking his head no.

"My charge, the Duke's daughter, was just kidnapped by those bandits you scared off. You must help me save her, she is an innocent child!" Darius' words were fraught with tension. As he saw the tall slender man continue to shake his head, Darius' tension gave way to anger. 

"Methos, you owe me! It's the right thing to do, and you could use a few more good works to help balance out your soul with the Almighty, you old self-centered bastard!"

"Darius, I haven't heard this much passion in your voice in centuries! Get your sword and a horse and we'll both go to rescue the child." Methos gave Darius a strangely familiar half-smile while looking the priest in the eyes. "Oh," The old Immortal paused "By the way, how old is this child and where were you taking her?"

Darius belatedly and unhappily remembered Methos' penchant for knowing every detail, down to the most insignificant. Then the old priest saw mischief play across the other Immortal's face.

"Methos don't get any ideas! She is but sixteen and I am taking her to marry Duke du Cléroy. It's an arranged marriage approved by Emperor Charlemagne himself. Now she has been kidnapped and we need to save her." Darius knew his friend and prepared himself for the coming onslaught. Methos had a bad habit of pointing out others mistakes and questioning you on them.

"Darius! If you care for this child why are you doing this?" Methos eyes grew wide at the mention of the Duke's name.

"We're wasting time Methos." Darius's voice strained with guilt that he had let his charge be taken. If it were four hundred years ago every bandit would be, at this moment, dying at his feet.

"Is she worth my time, or is she a spoiled brat?"

"Lydia is charming, intelligent, kind, and beautiful! Now, are you going to help, or do I give you a sermon on the value of atonement and put you in sackcloth and ashes, old man?" Darius yelled as Methos chuckled deep in his chest. Darius could only guess what was going through the other Immortal's mind, most likely some sort of mischief.

As they rode off together, Darius remembered the good old days and how much Methos enjoyed a good hunt. Not that long ago, Darius would have been the Immortal with the grin on his face, enjoying the thrill of the chase. Now, he was limited to praying and depending on a man he knew he could not completely trust.

It was past nightfall when the two friends caught up to the bandits and made their camp a safe distance away. The kidnappers were having a feast and the smell of fresh deer roasting was intoxicating to both Immortals. They had both been warriors and were used to traveling fast, which meant no time for hunting, so neither had been eating fresh meat recently.

Methos told Darius to stay put while he scouted a bit, and the priest easily acquiesced.

The oldest Immortal crept close to the camp and hid where he could observe and plan. Besides eating a heavy celebration dinner the bandits had brought out ale. Methos smiled to himself with pleasure at his good fortune. Drunken men with full bellies would only make his job easier, all he had to do was dispatch the six sentries he counted if the rest were asleep.

Methos remained in place and his patience was rewarded at last when he spotted Lydia, seemingly unharmed, her feet bound and tied to a tree, hands-free at the moment to feed herself. One of the scoundrels left the fire and tried to kiss her. The little Duchess slapped him so hard it echoed into the forest. The next time a man approached her, Lydia spat in his eyes.

Methos had his sword out, ready to forget his plans and charge into camp when he stopped. The leader revealed himself, warning his men and to leave the merchandise untouched. After all, a noble born virgin was worth so much more, he reminded the lot of them.

Lydia proudly sat herself down, happening to position herself perfectly for Methos get a good look at her in the combined light of the full moon and campfire. She had a perfectly oval face, cute button nose, and lines that showed she must have a dimple, though it was hiding while she maintained her brave face. Her hair was tousled and disheveled but it still shined as golden as yellow silk from China and fell in soft curls past her shoulders.

Darius was right; she was a beauty and had spirit, too. Most spoiled brats of nobility would be sitting and crying, but not Lydia. She didn't have a tear stain on her cheek, but she remained defiant to the end. Darius said she was only sixteen, but there was more to this girl than simply being the daughter of a Duke. Methos remained in his hiding spot longer than he should have, taking the time to stare at the young Duchess and marveling at her bravery.

It was late and the men were falling asleep when Methos returned to Darius. He described the bandits and their camp carefully for Darius, and they set about developing a plan while eating a little jerky with bread and water.

As the two Immortals waited for the bandits camp to fall asleep, Methos questioned Darius about Lydia's character. He learned that she helped at the church and could often be found caring for the serfs in the area. She was educated, well read, could sing, and enjoyed playing the flute. Methos decided she was definitely not a child; she was a young woman of talent and great depth. 

It had been over a hundred years since a headhunter brutalized and killed his last wife, since then Methos convinced himself it was better to remain celibate, alone because the game was far too dangerous. Even casual sex could be used against him. Better to keep his heart in a cold dark place. It was impossible for him to ensure a lover's safety, so Methos had decided to avoid love at all costs.

Much to Methos' surprise, it was happening again. He was falling in love at first sight. The problem was Methos never seemed to have control over the emotion of love. Every other emotion he was able to control, containing with ease - anger, pain, and jealousy. He even lied to himself, saying he didn't feel grief, but falling in love still turned him into a fool. To make matters worse, Methos seemed to always fall in love at first sight. Emrys had always warned his student it was a dangerous practice to fall in love as he did, with his entire mind, body, and spirit. But as much as he tried, it was one thing Methos couldn't master.

Methos' breathing deepened and he bit his lip. He could feel the walls he had built around his heart beginning to crack. He remembered watching Lydia spit in that bandit's eye and not being able to take his eyes off her.

This is a very bad idea! The girl is Darius' charge, and only sixteen and no, I can't do this! The girl is promised to a monster, who will someday become an Immortal. The Duke du Cléroy will never father a child; Darius will discover that the moment they meet. But if I don't intervene it will be too late for sweet Lydia. 

Methos took a deep breath and smiled at Darius, glad he was well practiced in hiding his thoughts. It was so easy to imagine the feel of the fearless blond in his arms. Thinking to himself, he almost whispered - I can save the girl and then introduce myself. I can be extremely charming and by the time Darius finds us Lydia will be completely in love with me. Sure, he'll be angry, but in five or ten years he'll cool off. I won't meet another woman like her in ten lifetimes, if ever. Yes, Lydia is very special indeed. Sorry old friend, I'm going to make her mine. 

Methos decided to change their initial plan a little. "Darius, these men are full of beer and meat and all will soon be sleeping. I can easily kill the six sentries, then you get Lydia out of the camp and I will be here with the horses."

"Oh, only six sentries? Methos my friend, can you kill every guard without raising suspicion?"

"Dammit Darius, do not mock me. Do you doubt what I am capable of?"

"No Methos, I know exactly what you are capable of, I've heard many of the horsemen stories. But tell me why are you taking on danger like this for me?" Darius demanded.

"I said I would help, so I'm helping. You want me to change my mind? Do not bring up the horsemen again or I swear I'll leave and you won't see me for a thousand years." Methos threatened with a lie, knowing he wanted Lydia safe and would do anything to make it so.

"I am sorry my friend. I know we're not the men once were and now I need you to do the things I cannot. I also know there is little you do without exacting a price in return." The old priest sadly stated.

"We can discuss my price later, now time is too short. Just do your part and let me do mine. The girl knows you so she will come with you without question?"

Darius nodded.

"Good. Then give me some time to accomplish my task and we can get out of this place," Methos whispered back.

"May The Lord be with you, my friend, or whatever gods you worship." Before Darius finished the blessing Methos disappeared into the night.

Darius never heard a sound, but when Methos returned the priest could see by the light of the full moon that his friend's hands were covered in blood.

"Now it's your turn, my friend, I cleared your path." Methos smiled as he took advantage of the small stream and began washing the blood of the dead men off himself and his sword.

Darius' stomach tightened, he abhorred killing, but there seemed to be no other choice. No matter what else he told himself, wasn't that the real reason he had brought Methos with him? Would God forgive him for using Methos as an instrument of death to save Lydia? These were not moral dilemmas Darius wished to think about at the moment.

Darius blended into the night well in his robes. Methos was right, the heavy food and drink had put the remaining men in a deep slumber. Lydia hadn't rested but stayed vigilant, her eyes growing wide as she saw the approaching shadow. Darius pulled his hood back and smiled at her while lifting a finger to his lips for silence.

For the first time since her kidnapping, Lydia let her guard down and tears of joy fell across her cheeks. Darius cut her ropes and they escaped as quietly as they could. Once they were well away from the camp, Darius hugged Lydia, then grasped her hand and broke into a run until they reached Methos.

"Lydia, this is Methos. He secured the camp so I could go in and get you. Methos is an old friend of mine from the days before I was a priest." Darius explained, hinting to her that Methos was also an Immortal. "Now, we are still too close to these brigands, let's ride as quickly as we can."

Methos gently took Lydia's hand in his while bowing and kissing her fingers. "It is an honor to serve such a brave and fine lady. However Darius is right, we need to make a timely exit before these bandits discover you're missing. I would be honored if you would ride with me on my horse." Methos oozed charm and poise.

Darius cringed knowing his friend's way with the ladies. He determined this was one time Methos was not going to win.

"Thank you, but not necessary Methos. I am the lady's chaperone, she should ride with me." Darius insisted.

"Gentlemen, there is no reason to fuss over me, I would be thrilled to ride with my champion Methos since without his help I would not be saved." Lydia and Methos exchanged smiles.

She does like me! Methos thought, making his smile brighten.

Darius groaned internally. Oh no! She's falling for Methos and he's going to ride off with her, I knew I saw mischief in that rascal's eyes! "Methos! Lydia! We must get back to the caravan. Dear child, you must ride with me, you have no idea what type of rascal this man really is!"

"But Father Darius, you told me he is your friend, and he saved my honor and my life," She continued to smile at Methos.

"He will steal that honor from you faster than you can count girl. Methos is a great man to have in a fight, but not around an innocent virgin who is already promised in marriage. Now come to me child, and we will get back to the wagons. Methos you will not use her and toss her away like you have so many other women." Darius' voice grew in volume and anger, a bad thing, since they were so close to the bandit's camp.

"Darius don't fill her mind with lies! I will protect you, Lydia, and as for the Duke du Cléroy, I will never let him touch you. Now quickly, we must leave before any of your attackers should awake." Methos took her hand and lifted Lydia up on his horse before Darius could get between them.

Darius raised his sword to Methos' neck, "If you intend to take her you will fight me first!"

"Don't be a fool, Darius. You gave up the game long ago, and it would only be a bloodbath. Besides, I could never kill you; you are one of my dearest friends! I promise to return Lydia to you, I just wish to talk to her alone. I am long past the days of forcing my attentions upon a lady and I promise not to seduce her." Stepping forward, Methos brushed the sword away.

Darius looked at Lydia, waiting upon Methos' stallion. "It's too late my friend, you have already seduced her. But Methos, why this girl? You can have any woman you want while she has a purpose, you must leave her."

"Darius, my old friend I have been alone longer than you know. Let me talk to Lydia, then I will return her to you unblemished." Methos' try to keep his voice a whisper but it broke with passion.

Darius did not find his words comforting. "Will you return Lydia to me still a virgin? From the tone of your voice, I doubt that would be possible. I thought I was the priest and had taken a vow of celibacy, what's your excuse?"

"Priest, you ask me what was my excuse is? It's the game and those of our kind who don't have any rules. Another Immortal murdered my last wife in front of my eyes."

"I am sorry old friend, truly I wish you no such pain, but we all know these are the chances we take when a mortal becomes part of our lives. How you can stay in the game for so long I will never understand, nor did Emrys."

"You think I don't already know these things? This is far from the first time something like this has happened to me."

"Methos do you know how to define insanity," Darius looked his friend right in the eyes not worrying if this angered him or not. "It is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. So why do keep up this insanity? Leave the game and come with me, follow after peace and live on holy ground."

"I could never be a holy man like you, it's not in my nature and Emrys understood me far better than you do! You do not even have the right to mention his name!"

"Methos, I cannot change the past, what happened was meant to be. The Lord..."

Methos quickly interrupted the old priest. "I could no more walk the path you chose than you could walk mine. I'm not sure anything is meant to be, except that tonight - for the first time in over a hundred years - the world is becoming a place of beauty once more. Darius do not deny me this!" Methos managed to keep his voice in a whisper, though anger and passion made it break occasionally as he spoke.

"Methos, I know when your passion starts to burn by that look in your eyes. I've seen it before and I see will again. Give Lydia to me for her protection. In time you will find another woman to love, you have before, surely this one young girl is not your destiny."

Darius put his hand on his friend's shoulder and dropped the volume of his voice even further. "My friend I feel your pain but what are the years these mortals live - but dust in the wind to us? I love mortals too, but you throw away a century mourning one woman you have spent but a few years with. You know these mortals all die while we will still go on forever. My God Man! You know this better than me! Give Lydia to me she has already been promised to another."

"Fine, but only for now," Methos said as he gently lifted Lydia off his horse. Darius got on his mount as Methos guided her over to the priest. Before helping Lydia onto Darius' horse Methos took her in his arms and kissed her.

He kissed Lydia as she had never been kissed before, as a man in love kisses the woman of his desire. Her mouth opened to his and she had her first taste of a man. His tongue swept over hers and Lydia could feel his growing need pressing against her. Her head was spinning and she could no longer breathe, as she melted into Methos' embrace. It was intoxicating as he tightened his arms around her body, pulling her closer to him and pushing his passion into her very soul. Lydia yearned for the short kiss to never to end and the memory was burned in her heart forever.

Methos finally helped her mount her chaperone's horse as Darius glared at him in anger. Lydia gave him a lingering look of bliss, wishing that he had never released her from his embrace. She only wanted to feel the touch of Methos' hands and his lips upon hers.

Darius set his rage aside and forced himself to relax. "Methos, are you coming with us or waiting for the bandits to find you?"

"Neither, I am going to kill the Duke du Cléroy. Darius kept her safe for me." Methos looked straight into Lydia's eyes while gently kissing her hand once more. "Lydia my body goes, but my heart remains with you." Methos bowed to her, mounted his black stallion and galloped away.

The ride back to the caravan required riding through the rest of the night, a long ride made longer by Darius' refusal to speak of Methos or answer any of Lydia's questions. As soon as they arrived at their camp, the priest awoke the survivors and ordered that the caravan to restart their travels immediately.

Lydia rode in her wagon alone, begging for solitude, using her ordeal as an excuse to remain sequestered. When Darius rode beside the wagon, he could hear her weeping.

Damn you, Methos. She was happy until she met you and now I want to kill you for doing this to her. You are the only man who can make me wish to break my vows. Darius shook his head, looking at the heavens. Methos you damn rascal, I want to save her too. I beg the Lord please forgive me and protect you. Watch your head, old friend.

End chapter 3

Chapter 4 - The Warrior Queen


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